The Howes' White Sheep
by Sarah1281
Summary: Nathaniel may not have been around when it happened, but it was clear that his father's actions during the Blight had all but destroyed the family name. He wouldn't rest until he found a way to redeem them all. A series of Nathaniel-related BSN prompts.
1. Relations

Prompt: Relations

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel Howe thought that Fergus Cousland could probably stand to be a bit less put-out to see him under the circumstances.

"I might have known you'd be involved," Fergus said bitterly, glaring at him. His guards were dead and his clothes were torn but he didn't seem to notice any of that.

"I hardly think that saving you from bandits counts as being _involved_ in said bandits' attack, Teyrn," Nathaniel responded evenly. Once he and Fergus had been friends but once he had had a father and Fergus had had parents. Once he had had a brother and Fergus a wife and child. Now everyone was dead and he had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens for plotting to kill Fergus's sister who had slain his own father while Fergus was on record saying that he didn't think Nathaniel would have the stones to return to Ferelden. Well Anastasia Theirin was still alive and here Nathaniel was.

"You could have easily staged the attack in order to try and get into my good graces," Fergus claimed.

Nathaniel sighed. "Please, Teyrn. Using bandits isn't really my style."

"No, I suppose that when you attempted to murder my only living family – and so finish the job that your father started – you did work alone," Fergus conceded.

Nathaniel concealed a wince. That had really not been one of his finer moments, he had to admit. "I was operating under faulty information," he said smoothly. "And even before I learned the truth I decided not to attack her. I was arrested for trespassing in my former home not for making an attempt on Anastasia's life."

Fergus frowned deeply, a sure sign that he felt that Nathaniel had a point. "You should never have come back here regardless."

"And why not?" Nathaniel challenged. "Because of what my father did?"

"_Yes_ because of what your father did," Fergus exclaimed. "He was a monster and he tried to destroy **everything**. He killed my family, he sent assassins after my sister, he sold Ferelden natives into slavery, he tortured nobles, he kidnapped Templars-"

"I get it," Nathaniel cut him off, unwilling to hear more. "I really do. I have come to accept that my father, at least in recent years, was not a good man. I have come to accept that he greatly wronged all of Ferelden and your family in particular. I am not him, Fergus."

Fergus started slightly at the unexpected invocation of his given name. "You look like him. You're his son. You carry his name."

"I'm not him," Nathaniel repeated.

Fergus closed his eyes. "I…I do know that. Intellectually. Just the same, you're father killed my family. How am I supposed to get over it? I went away to Ostagar and our fathers were supposed to come the following day. My mother was supposed to be safe at Lady Landra's Denerim estate and my little sister was supposed to try her hand at running the castle while Oren and Oriana stayed there with her. I never made it to the battle, I was imprisoned by Chasind for nearly a year, and then when I finally did escape I found only your father's men at my home. Again, I ask you: how am I supposed to get over it?"

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment as he desperately tried to come up with some sort of answer for his former friend. "I don't know," he said at last. "Anastasia's managed it and I've forgiven her for her part in destroying my family."

Fergus snorted. "Well, that's Anastasia. She's always been a bit off. And what do you have to forgive? Your father brought everything on himself and from what I've heard of what happened, her killing him actually had very little to do with vengeance and was more of a necessity."

"He was still my father," Nathaniel said mildly. "Look, I don't have all the answers. I wish I did as it would make this – and everything – much easier but the fact remains that our families were friends, that my father killed your family, that your sister killed my father. My brother died in the war as well and my sister refuses to acknowledge where she came from. The Howes no longer have an Arling but you've not only reclaimed Highever but Anastasia is the Queen of Ferelden and Teyrna of Gwaren in addition to having taken temporary control of Amaranthine. I've lost a lot as well and I don't mean to get into a petty argument about who has had it worse. The point is that some things can't be changed and we've got to find a way to live with them."

Fergus was silent for a long moment. Eventually, he asked, "Do you really regret what happened to my family?"

"Every day since I heard that they were dead," Nathaniel admitted. "Even when I was under the impression that they were traitors to the Crown and even more now that I know that that wasn't the case. And why wouldn't I be? We were friends."

"That was a long time ago," Fergus said ruefully. "Sad as it is, this is the first time that I've seen you since you left for the Free Marches a decade ago."

"I didn't hear from you often given how far away I was," Nathaniel told him. "I heard from my father less. I had no idea and you can't possibly believe that I would have supported it had I known."

Fergus looked a little wistful. "I don't know. Ten years is an awfully long time. You left just after the birth of my son."

"Father wanted me to leave earlier but I didn't want to miss that," Nathaniel said softly.

Fergus shook his head as if to clear away the memories. "Ten years is a long time," he repeated. "Just the same…you saved my life today. As Teyrn and the brother of Ferelden's other Teyrna and Queen, that's probably worth something. I'm beginning to feel a little foolish just standing around in the middle of the road after a bandit attack so I think we should get into town. Then we can…talk. I'm honor-bound to repay you for this, you know."

Nathaniel nodded. It was actually more than he'd expected. Being a Howe in a country that still had a long way to go before they could forget the sins of his father, he would have expected – at best – a curt thank you and maybe a pouch full of sovereigns. Regardless of what had happened between their families since the beginning of the last Blight, Fergus had once been a friend and he had hated to lose that. "I didn't do it for that."

Fergus' eyes flickered. "I know."

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	2. Conspiracy

Prompt: Conspiracy

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel Howe was sure that he must have heard wrong. "Come again?"

"The King and Queen of Ferelden granted Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens on account of them saving Ferelden from themselves and the Blight both," his dinner companion, a man named Samuel, repeated obligingly.

That was what Nathaniel had thought he had said. "But…what about the Howes? They can't just take land away from somebody and give it to the Grey Wardens!"

"The Howes?" Samuel laughed and leaned back in his chair. "You really don't pay much attention to what's going on in other parts of the world, do you?"

"I have more than enough to occupy my attention here in Kirkwall," Nathaniel said stiffly. "Especially since Hawke arrived."

Samuel nodded his agreement. "Some people are natural rabble-rousers, I guess."

Nathaniel waited for Samuel to explain about how the Grey Wardens came to be in possession of his family's ancestral lands but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate. "What happened to the Howes?" he prompted.

"What? Oh, them. Arl Rendon Howe was stripped of his titles and lands after he died in disgrace," Samuel explained. "And he had collected quite a few of them from what I've heard. Arl of Amaranthine, Teyrn of Highever, Arl of Denerim…"

The last Nathaniel had heard, Urien Kendalls was the Arl of Denerim and Bryce Cousland the Teyrn of Highever. He hadn't really known Urien or his son Vaughan well so that wasn't much of a concern to him but the Couslands were old family friends. He and Fergus had grown up together, Anastasia had trailed after the pair of them for years, and he had watched little Oren breathe his first breath. "Highever? What happened to the Couslands?"

"Howe killed them, he did," Samuel replied matter-of-factly. He had no idea that Nathaniel was a Howe himself as he hadn't wanted to deal with responsibilities and privileges of his heritage while he was attempting to become his own person and learn to survive on his own. "Right before that King Cailan fell at Ostagar."

"He…_what_?" That Nathaniel couldn't wrap his mind around. His father killing Bryce Cousland? The Couslands were like family to the Howes and had been for as long as he could remember (though there was that unpleasantness concerning Harpers Ford back during the rebellion so he knew it hadn't always been that way) and Bryce had always been one of his father's closest friends. There were only two possible explanations. The most obvious answer was that there was some mistake and his father had not done that. He might be mistaken, though. His father might have killed the Couslands. He hadn't been home in eight years and so he didn't have a very up-to-date view of the situation. One thing he was **absolutely **sure of, however, was that the Couslands crimes must have been grave indeed to earn such a fate. He loved the Couslands dearly but he loved and trusted his father more and so he had to believe that if he had done such a terrible thing then he had a damn good reason for it.

"If the Couslands were dead then it makes sense that their teynir would fall to the Howes," Nathaniel said slowly, trying to will away the images of dead friends that wouldn't stop forming in his mind. "I'm not sure why they would get Denerim but I suppose that's not really what's important right now. What's this about Arl Howe dying in disgrace?"

"You heard about that civil war Ferelden had because they were too stubborn to let the darkspawn kill them but too backwards to be able to kill them?" Samuel asked.

Nathaniel simply nodded, far too used to slights against his home country to bother defending it now. "I had heard something about it. It was a war of succession after King Cailan died, yes?"

"Right," Samuel confirmed. "At least that much information managed to trickled down to whatever rock you've been living under. Queen Anora tried to keep her throne and was supported by her father who became her regent, Teyrn Loghain. Arl Howe supported them. Arl Eamon – who is Cailan's mother's brother – put King Maric's bastard Alistair on the throne with Anastasia Cousland as his consort."

Nathaniel blinked. "I thought you said that the Couslands were dead?"

"All but Anastasia who became a Grey Warden and ended the Blight and Fergus who reclaimed Highever," Samuel clarified. "It's not surprising that Alistair and Anastasia gave Amaranthine to the Wardens since they're Wardens themselves. I think she took Gwaren after they killed Loghain and Howe."

"The Grey Wardens…they killed Arl Howe?" Nathaniel demanded. He couldn't believe it. Eight years was a long time certainly but he never would have believed this of her. "Then the posthumously stripped his titles and lands leaving his family with nothing? And for what? For being on the losing side of a civil war?"

Samuel shrugged, looking a little confused as to what had riled the younger man up so. "I guess so. That's just how the world works, though."

"I have to go," Nathaniel declared suddenly, standing up. He threw some money on the table and stormed out of the tavern. He knew it was hopelessly rude but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't just sit there and pretend that everything was okay.

It was a conspiracy, that's what it was. His father had been a true patriot who had made the mistake of siding with those who had lost the civil war and for that he had been disgraced, killed, and now vilified. And it wasn't just his father, either. Nathaniel would have wanted vengeance for destroying such a great man as Rendon Howe but if they had left his sister and brother with Amaranthine instead of taking everything then he could have rested easier.

He hadn't intended to leave Kirkwall just yet and he knew that Hawke would be incredibly disappointed but he felt like there was no time to say goodbye. He had to get back to Ferelden and he had to do it now. The Howe name depended on it.

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	3. Mother

Prompt: Mother

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

It was raining when Nathaniel's mother died. Some would say that that was fitting, that the state of the whether matched the somber mood inside of the house. And the mood was somber because, for all that his father had hated his mother and the servants thought her too demanding, a death was a still a death and one so close to them shouldn't be taken lightly. Nathaniel hated that the more sentimental could say that the sky was sad that day. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with his grief over his mother and therefore if it was to be raining because of a tragic occurrence than that occurrence would have had to have been elsewhere and unconnected to him. Who wanted the rain from someone else's tragedy to overshadow his mother's death?

Nathaniel had never told his father that. How could he? Rendon Howe was a man who had never had any patience for sentimental thoughts or idle dreaming. He had always said that if a man wanted something done then he would be better served to go out and do it instead of sitting around wishing. In later years, his father would go on to prove just how much he had meant that. It was a small comfort to know that at least his father had held to his convictions even if it had brought ruin to them all and had brought shame to the Howe name. His father hadn't really seemed to ever mourn his mother but given their animosity that was, perhaps, not surprising. It was enough that he had never again said a word against her and that that incredibly unappealing portrait of the Lady Howe, which had previous only been taken out when her relatives had come to stay, had been left up in the Keep. Nathaniel liked to stand by it and just look at it sometimes as it reminded him that there had still been good in his father. That wouldn't ever be nearly enough to make up for all the evil he had done but it was at least something to hold to.

Nathaniel had never told his brother about the rain either. Thomas was even more of a dreamer than he was and that had honestly worried Nathaniel. The problem with dreaming too much, of course, was that it meant that reality could never measure up to the hopes and expectations. Thomas' dreams had seemed mostly harmless when Nathaniel had been sent to the Free Marches. The boy was full of chatter about glory in battle and epic heroes of legend – whose ranks he would one day join himself, naturally – and it had almost seemed like he preferred his dreams to his truth. It had seemed like he was just an overenthusiastic child but Nathaniel still had been hesitant to give his imagination yet more fuel. Thomas grew up eventually in a completely different country than Nathaniel and, though he hadn't seen it personally, he was assured that his brother had turned to drink and chasing skirts. As hormones hit, romantic fantasies must have become a part of his fanciful repertoire so was he always searching for the one woman who would finally live up to his grand expectations? Did she even exist? And the drink…had that been his way of coping with the stumbling blocks in life that his dreams had not prepared him for? Nathaniel honestly didn't know and, unless he could get Delilah to talk more about those years when he was gone, he never would. Reality had never been good enough for Thomas and Nathaniel hoped that, somewhere, he was happy now. He might even be with their mother again.

Nathaniel absolutely could not bring himself to tell his sister about the rain. Unlike Thomas, Delilah was a pragmatist. She would probably sit him right down and try to find out why he was saying things like that instead of accepting it or dismissing it like their father or brother would have done. Nathaniel might have even told her which was why he couldn't have risked mentioning it at all. Delilah never tried to pretend that things were better than they were. She faced reality, no matter how awful it got, unflinchingly and she suffered for that. Nathaniel wasn't about to add to her problems and he was the big brother anyway. It was really _his_ job to comfort _her_, even if he didn't know how, not the other way around. When he had found out that she wasn't dead, he hadn't been as surprised as he had thought he ought to be. Then again, she **would** be the one to make it through. She had never wanted too much too quickly like their father or rejected everyone else's reality and substituted her own like her brother. She had never really been happy living a pampered life as the Arl's daughter because she said it made her feel removed from the people. Her new life in Amaranthine might not be glamorous but it felt more solid to her, more real. She was probably happier there than she ever could have been elsewhere.

Nathaniel wondered what his mother would have made of his feelings about the rain. It was a little depressing that he could perfectly picture how the other members of his family would have reacted and yet he had no idea how she would have. It was to be expected, he supposed. The Lady Howe had been the typical sort of aristocratic mother who had had little interest in noisy and sticky children that he had encountered in most noble households (the exception being Eleanor Cousland who, along with her husband, had adored her children since birth and Isolde Guerrin who seemed to be almost unhealthily attached to her son) and she had died before even Nathaniel could have become someone that could hold her interest. He had been raised instead by Adria who was just as good as a mother and who would have simply given him a hug had he confided in her. She was dead, too, now after having first become a ghoul. Sometimes when he looked at his mother's portrait he tried to understand who she was because he understood her less than he understood anyone and he watched Delilah with her children it struck him just how sad that was. She was his mother but she might as well have been a stranger.

It was raining again. Some would call that fitting.

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	4. Little Boy Dreams

Prompt: Little Boy Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel Howe slowly crept around the corner and towards his father's study. Adria had put him to bed quite some time ago but he was far too excited to sleep. His father had been away in Denerim for half the winter and they had received a messenger saying that he would be back to Vigil's Keep that very night! How could he possibly sleep when he was going to be able to see his father for the first time in weeks? If he was caught, he'd get in trouble and be sent straight back to bed but he was just going to have to risk it.

Thomas and Delilah were already asleep, of course. Delilah had been all boring and insisted 'the sooner we go to sleep, the sooner we'll wake up and see that father's returned' so she hadn't been interested in staying up to wait. Thomas had been but he was still just a baby, really, and so hadn't been able to stay awake for very long. Nathaniel thought Thomas had actually fallen asleep before Delilah and she wasn't even _trying _to stay up. Their mother wasn't treating this as if it was anything special but, well, mother's tended to be weird like that.

The light was on in the study. No one went into his father's study when he wasn't there which meant that he was home after all! As Nathaniel inched open the door, it occurred to him that his father might not be pleased to see him up so late either. He was supposed to listen to Adria, after all, and he hadn't done that tonight. Either way, he hadn't come all this way to turn back now.

Sure enough, Rendon Howe was sitting at his desk and writing a letter. He looked up when Nathaniel came in. "Ah, Nathaniel. What are you doing up so late?"

Part of Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to run to his father and give him the biggest hug he could but he didn't because he was a Howe and that wasn't how Howes behaved. Instead, he just moved closer to the desk and replied, "I wanted to see you."

A small smile stole over the Arl's face. "Is that so? While I appreciate the sentiment, you really should get to bed. It's far too late for someone your age to be up."

"I'm not tired, honest!" Nathaniel claimed earnestly. His words were quickly belied by the yawn he couldn't quite manage to suppress, however.

Rendon chuckled. "I see. Do you think a story would help you get to sleep?"

Nathaniel's eyes lit up. He loved his father's stories. "Oh, definitely," he agreed, trying not to sound too eager.

"Okay, let's see…what haven't I told you before…I've told you a little about the rebellion, I know, and about King Calenhad," Rendon mused. "Have I told you about the Blackmarsh?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "What's that?"

"I haven't? It's on our very land, you know. The Blackmarsh used to be a fairly prosperous village but not too long before Queen Moira took over the rebellion, everyone in it mysteriously died," Rendon told him.

Nathaniel's eyes went wide. "What happened?"

"No one really knows," Rendon said conspiratorially. "Everyone who happened to be in the village at the time all died and those who went to investigate afterwards claimed that they saw monsters in the village. It doesn't really matter if that was true or not, because the rumors combined with the mysterious massacre were enough to ensure that nobody wanted to go near the land. Most people think it's cursed."

"Do _you_ think it's cursed?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes growing wider.

"I don't believe in curses," Rendon replied calmly.

"So what do you think happened?" Nathaniel pressed.

Rendon frowned. "I haven't put much thought into it but this _was_ shortly after an Orlesian baroness took over ruling the Blackmarsh. I don't like to think of myself as overly paranoid but it wouldn't be the first time during the occupation that the Orlesians committed such an atrocity. Why do you think so many joined the rebellion, even knowing what it might cost them?"

"Your grandfather didn't join the rebellion," Nathaniel pointed out.

A shadow passed over Rendon's face. "No…no, he did not. My grandfather was a very old man, Nathaniel. He had been alive back before the occupation even began. He remembered what it was like when the Orlesians first took over and I think that he just couldn't let go of the past. He was a bit old to be a rebel, anyway."

Nathaniel didn't like to see his father upset and so he quickly changed the subject. "So many bad things happened and no one seems to know why or how to fix them. When I grow up, I'm going to fix it. One day, I'll go to the Blackmarsh and I'll set things right."

Rendon chuckled. "Will you? And how do you think you're going to do that?"

Nathaniel thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know yet. I'll have to go there to see what's wrong with it first. And I should probably bring a sword in case there really are monsters there."

"That's always a good idea," Rendon agreed. "Although be careful: you never know just what form the monster might take. It could look like one of the servants, one of your friends, your family members…"

"Even you?" Nathaniel asked, feeling a little disturbed by the notion that monsters could be _everywhere_.

Rendon looked surprised at the question. "Yes, even me, I suppose. That makes it all the more important that you go set things right one day, doesn't it?"

As Nathaniel made his way back to bed, he couldn't help but grin. There was still so much wrong with the world but one day…one day his little boy dreams would become grown-up heroics. He was sure of it. And wouldn't his father be pleased then?

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	5. First

Prompt: First

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel eyed the newborn in his arms suspiciously. He had watched it spit up all over his sister's husband earlier and he was hoping to avoid a similar fate.

Delilah laughed at him. "You look like Thomas is going to attack you."

"He might," Nathaniel said a little stiffly.

"Even if he _does_ spit up on you – which he won't as he hasn't eaten in awhile – then that wouldn't be an attack," Delilah said reasonably.

Nathaniel remained unconvinced. "Hmph. Does he do that often?"

"What, spitting up?" Delilah asked, absently pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I suppose so. All babies do, really, when they're at his age."

"You and Thomas didn't," Nathaniel disagreed. "Although I never really spent time with any babies besides you two."

"I really can't say if I did or not," Delilah replied. "But Thomas? Please. He spit up every time he was fed without fail for weeks. Adria used to worry that he'd never be able to grow with the way he refused to keep his food down."

Nathaniel frowned. "I really don't remember that."

Delilah shrugged. "Maybe you blocked it out of your mind due to how traumatizing it was whenever he spat up on you."

"See, _that_ I would have remembered," Nathaniel claimed.

"Clearly not," Delilah retorted. "But you don't have to just take my word for it. Ask Samuel sometime when you get back to the Keep. He used to find that hilarious."

"I will," Nathaniel promised, looking disconcerted at the very thought although it was hard to say if he were more upset at not remembering something his little sister was so positive about or that he got spit up on by his little brother at all.

"Oh, relax, Nathaniel; little Thomas doesn't do it nearly as often as his uncle did," Delilah assured him.

If Nathaniel relaxed marginally, Delilah was too polite to comment on it. "I'm glad he has your nose."

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Really, big brother, not everybody has your bizarre phobias."

"True," Nathaniel allowed. "But just the same, now he can look like a nice normal member of society instead of..."he trailed off.

"Instead of like a Howe," Delilah supplied. "By the time he's old enough to really notice these things, the stigma will have largely passed, Nathaniel. You do good work. Besides, his surname isn't even Howe."

"I hope you're right," Nathaniel said with a heavy sigh. "When I first started out, I thought you were dead and didn't care much if I died. I was trying to redeem the past instead of working to fix the future. Now that little Thomas is here I want to make things better for his sake."

"_Good_," Delilah said emphatically. "Don't fixate on the past. That was the mistake our father made."

"I would never-" Nathaniel began heatedly.

"I'm not saying you would," Delilah cut him off. "But no good will from that dwelling on what once was even if you never do go crazy and start committing all sorts of vile crimes."

"I suppose that's true," Nathaniel agreed. "It's not so easy to move on, though. Having a younger generation that you're trying to protect definitely helps."

"Little Thomas here is only the first member," Delilah said, reaching over and smoothing down her son's hair. "Before long, there will be plenty more voices crying out for their 'Uncle Nate' whenever you come to visit."

Nathaniel shot her a strange look. "Just how many children are you planning on having?"

Delilah tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, I don't really know. I know that you'll have difficulty having children and so carrying on our family legacy will pretty much be my responsibility just as it's your responsibility to redeem our name. I just…I don't want them to grow up lonely."

There was something in her voice that bothered Nathaniel. "You say that as though you're speaking from experience. Surely our childhood wasn't _that_ bad?"

"Distant parents, isolation from everyone not 'good enough', the never-relenting pressure to live up to the Howe name…" Delilah trailed off. "It wasn't all bad, no, especially when you were still there. Afterwards…I really don't know how to explain it to you."

"You never try," Nathaniel pointed out.

"I don't know what to say and I don't think it will help," Delilah insisted. "Besides, you've had enough disillusionment for one year. Thomas' childhood will be different. Albert comes from such a large, loving family and I just know he'll be a great father. He already is."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother, Delilah," Nathaniel said loyally.

"That's kind of you to say," Delilah said with a smile. "I really feel like I have no idea what to do most of the time but Albert's family has been a great help and I'm learning as I go. Who knows, by the time I'm raising my last child I'll probably be wondering what in the world I was thinking when I raised Thomas."

"I never actually thought that I would ever even have _one_ nephew – especially after hearing about the war – let alone _several_," Nathaniel confessed. "But you know…I'm glad. With you as a mother, Thomas is going to grow up to be a good kid and any other children you have will be the same."

"And this lets you off the hook as far as settling down," Delilah teased. "You can just come over here and visit whenever you want to see the children and then make sure to be gone whenever one gets sick or needs to be changed. And speaking of…"

" 'Speaking of'?" Nathaniel repeated suspiciously.

"It would appear that it's about time for Thomas to get changed. Since you're already holding him, would you like to do the honors?" Delilah asked rhetorically, standing up to go get the supplies.

The look on Nathaniel's face was really answer enough.

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	6. Agreement

Prompt: Agreement

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Whenever Nathaniel stopped to think about it, he found it remarkable just how much at home he felt at Vigil's Keep. On the one hand, he had spent his childhood there but on the other, Amaranthine under the Wardens seemed to be infinitely warmer, more genuine, just…better, overall. And he wasn't nearly the only one to feel that way. Everyone always said that life was far easier since Rendon Howe had been killed. Well, all but the Arl's closest political allies but that was to be expected no matter how the rest had fared.

Nathaniel hadn't thought that way when he had first gotten back to Ferelden. He still remembered arriving back in the country of his birth after having spent eight years abroad and being painfully aware of how little he knew about what had been going on. He had thought that he knew enough. He had heard that the Grey Wardens now held his family's land and that his father had died in disgrace. He had firmly believed that his father had become a scapegoat for backing the wrong side in the civil war that had broken out after Cailan's death. He had been wrong. Maybe, as Delilah, had claimed, he'd been unable to face the truth about their father. He had to admit, he still hated the thought that his father had always been the monster he'd revealed himself to be once he'd massacred the Couslands.

Knowing nothing of this, Nathaniel's grand return to Vigil's Keep was _not_ one of his finer moments, to put it mildly. At least he had decided against attacking the Warden-Commander despite her having murdered his father. He knew that most people disapproved of his use of the word 'murder' in regards to the incident but since she had broken into his father's new Denerim estate (the fact that the Queen had wanted her to do that didn't actually make it legal) and killed him. Regardless of what he'd done first, it was still illegal. It was still murder. He had come to terms with it, though, in the months following his conscription.

That was another thing he hadn't expected to like. He had been forced to join the Grey Wardens for the high crime of attempting to reclaim some of his own family's belongings (admitting he had originally been planning on assassinating her probably hadn't helped) even though he had insisted that he'd rather have died. He had meant it, too. His family name was dragged through the mud, his father was dead, his home was gone, his brother was dead, he didn't know that his sister had survived…what had he to live for? As she had pointed out, though, conscription meant that she wasn't exactly giving him a choice about it.

The commander was a hated figure who never seemed to take her duties as seriously as she should. Anders was a mage who was equally flippant and seemed to make a game out of trying to make him lose his composure. Oghren was…there were really no words for Oghren. His first impression of the man was that he made drunken dwarf stereotypes look respectable. He had come around on all three of them and come to appreciate Velanna, Sigrun, and Justice as well. Somehow, when he wasn't looking they had become more than just a ragtag collection of misfits with nowhere else to go and had actually become a competent fighting force and then, even more surprising, a family of sorts. Delilah and her children would always be most important to him but being a part of the Ferelden Wardens was…nice.

Attempting to critically and objectively look back at his childhood was difficult, both in the emotional and accuracy sense, but from what he could remember, things were far quieter and more solemn when his father was in charge. His parents greatly resented each other and the elves, in particular, were almost afraid of his father. He didn't quite know why but he was sure there had to be some reason. Perhaps they could see some of the inner darkness that would destroy him in the future? One thing he knew for certain was that people were generally happier at Vigil's Keep now despite the fact that actually _being_ a Grey Warden wasn't exactly a pleasant state of affairs. He wondered sometimes whether the way things had been and the way they were now said more about his father or the Grey Wardens.

Nathaniel had returned to Vigil's Keep and been forced into becoming a Warden determined to hate everything and fully convinced that he wouldn't have to try. He had started off disapproving of the almost casual way the Keep was run. He had resented the uncalled for – in his eyes – vilification of the Arling's former lord. He had seen the Wardens as a nuisance, necessary though they may be, and lived for the day when they would no longer be needed and could be cast back in obscurity for the next four centuries. Now, though? Now, like it or not, he was one of them. Now, for better or for worse, he looked at what they did and the positions they took and _agreed_.

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	7. A Secret

Prompt: A Secret

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel was just on his way to the kitchen to see if the cook would take pity on him for sleeping in late and missing breakfast when he heard some excited cries coming from his brother's room. Deciding that his curiosity was stronger than his hunger, he slowly opened the door and stuck his head inside. Thomas, wearing a hat that he'd attached feathers to, was holding his wooden practice sword in his hands dramatically and one of the practice dummies had been moved from outside to the center of the room and was wearing an angry-looking mask that the boy had clearly made himself.

"What are you doing?" Nathaniel asked, completely bewildered.

Thomas jumped about a foot. "Ah! Don't sneak up on me like that, Nathaniel," he said, mildly angry.

"I _didn't_ sneak up on you," Nathaniel pointed out. "I just opened your door."

"Well…don't do that, either," Thomas ordered.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "_Ever_?"

Thomas frowned as he realized that that really wasn't very practical. "Not without knocking first," he amended.

"I won't," Nathaniel promised solemnly, knowing that he probably wasn't going to remember. "So what are you doing anyway? And why do you have a training dummy in here?"

Now Thomas looked strangely nervous. "I'm not doing anything, really, just playing…"

That really didn't make anything at all clearer. "Playing what?" Nathaniel pressed.

Thomas looked down. "Promise you won't tell?"

"Tell who?" Nathaniel asked, wondering just what was going on that he was now being sworn to secrecy over a game.

"Don't tell _anyone_," Thomas said urgently. "Not even Delilah!"

"I promise," Nathaniel vowed, figuring that if it were really serious and he felt that he had to tell then his little brother's well-being was more important than his promise. Thomas would be very angry with him and might not trust him again anytime soon but he was willing to accept those consequences.

Thomas bit his lip, still looking hesitant. He mumbled something inaudible.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Nathaniel asked. "Maybe this time loud enough so that I can actually here it?"

Thomas glared at him briefly. "I _said_ that I was playing Grey Wardens and darkspawn," he muttered a little louder.

Nathaniel's eyes widened as he realized just why Thomas had wanted to keep that a secret. Their father was currently in Denerim and so he was unlikely to see what Thomas was up to unless a servant or somebody told on him but if he did find out then it wouldn't be good. Their father _hated_ Grey Wardens. The last Blight was around four hundred years ago and so everyone said that they weren't important anymore but that just made them not care about the Wardens, not actively hate them like their father did.

Nathaniel didn't know all the details because his father hated to talk about it but apparently a long time ago, when his father was just a child himself, his own father – Padric Howe – had abandoned the family to go join the Grey Wardens. He was supposed to become the Arl of Amaranthine but he had decided to put glory-seeking ahead of that and leave his young son to take up the mantle of Arl from his elderly grandfather who was not able to retire when he would have liked but was forced to keep on as Arl until the Couslands had killed him for siding with Orlais during the rebellion. His father always said that he understood the need for that before quickly changing the subject. Nathaniel guessed that even if it was necessary that he still wouldn't like to lose a family member. The worst part was that his grandfather Padric had never looked back once. Nathaniel's father had expected him to at least send some sort of letter when his grandfather had died but he hadn't. He had simply walked away from his family and his responsibilities – behaving in a very un-Howe-like manner – and that was the end of it. For all they knew, Padric had died a long time ago. For all that it mattered to them, he might as well have.

Thomas knew the story as well as Nathaniel did which was why his playing was in secret but he still looked rather defiant. "See, I've got a griffon hat right here…or a hat with griffon feathers on it. I've got my sword and I'm busy killing darkspawn. I wanted to fight an Archdemon but I don't have anything big enough to use as a giant dragon."

Nathaniel merely shook his head. "Oh, Thomas…"

"Don't tell anyone!" Thomas begged. "Especially not Father! It's just a game."

"Oh, I know, I know," Nathaniel was quick to reassure him. "But Thomas…why do you have to play _this_ game? Surely there are plenty of others that you could pick that aren't so…dangerous."

"I'm sick of playing Rebels and Orlesians," Thomas pouted. "And there really aren't any other good games. And Delilah won't play with me anyway because she doesn't like swords. Besides, I want to be a Grey Warden someday."

Nathaniel's heart stopped. It was one thing to _play _Grey Wardens and Darkspawn. To actually want to be one, however, and to even say something about it? Oh, if their father found out about that Thomas would be lucky if he didn't find himself disowned. "Don't say that!" he hissed.

"Why not?" Thomas asked stubbornly. "It's true."

"Look," Nathaniel said slowly, trying to make him understand. "If you want to grow up someday and leave us all behind like Grandfather Padric did then I won't be happy about it but I'll put up with it. That's a long way away, though. You aren't even allowed to touch a real sword yet. If you go around talking about how you're going to do it then you're just going to upset a lot of people _now_." And anger them. Particularly their father.

"Well, I don't want that," Thomas conceded reluctantly. "And I'm not stupid enough to say that in front of other people anyway."

Nathaniel just stood there, feeling a little awkward. Of course he knew that his brother wasn't but he really didn't want to take that kind of a chance. Now Thomas was sulking and it was all his fault and the boy had clearly been having a lot of fun before. All of the servants – and even Delilah – would knock before barging in so they'd probably have given Thomas time to hide what he was doing…although who knew how he'd hide the practice dummy.

"Thomas…" Nathaniel began hesitantly.

Thomas merely blinked at him which Nathaniel took as a sign to continue.

"It can't be very much fun playing with a darkspawn that will never fight back," Nathaniel reasoned. "Maybe I could help with that."

Thomas' face lit up. "You mean…?"

Nathaniel smiled at the look on his brother's face. "Yes, Thomas I'll play with you."

"And you won't tell anyone," Thomas said, just to make sure.

"No, I won't tell anyone," Nathaniel confirmed. "It will be our secret."

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	8. Fergus Cousland

Prompt: Fergus Cousland.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel was supposed to have left for the Free Marches three weeks ago. According to Delilah, their father was threatening to come up to Highever and personally drag him to the ship that would take him there which would certainly be a sight to see since Nathaniel was a good half a foot taller than his father. Still, it would be the kind of thing that he would never ever be able to live down and so he'd really rather avoid having that scenario play out. He'd be gone this time tomorrow, however, and so even if his father did mean to do what he said he'd arrive to find Nathaniel already gone.

Normally, Nathaniel was much more of a dutiful son than this but he was going to be gone for _years_ and he really hadn't a clue when he'd be back. He was really going to miss Ferelden. Additionally, his childhood friend Fergus Cousland had just become a father a week ago and Nathaniel wouldn't have missed that for the world. He felt like he was running out on him either way since the child – Oren – was still so very new but it couldn't be helped. Fergus had said that he had understood and Nathaniel could only prey that he had meant that.

"Nathaniel?" a low voice broke the silence. "What are you still doing up?"

Nathaniel looked up from the portrait of the Teyrna Eleanor (he had always loved to look at portraits) he had been studying to see Fergus standing in the doorway. "I could ask you that very question, you know."

Fergus grinned. "That you could but – and not to sound childish here – I _so_ asked first."

Nathaniel fought the urge to roll his eyes. Maker, and Fergus was the elder of the two. "I was just reflecting on how this will be my last night in Ferelden for quite some time."

Fergus' grin faded at that. "I know," he said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "It's hard to believe. And your father hasn't explained why at all?"

"He said something about how he wanted me to become more self-sufficient like they had to be during the rebellion," Nathaniel replied once again. He had Fergus had had this conversation more times than he could count, as had he and Delilah, he and Thomas, he and Anastasia, he and Adria… "He thinks that it will make me a more suitable heir for the Arling."

Fergus was still incredulous. "And he can't make you a 'more suitable heir' without sending you out of the country?"

"My father is not a man willing to let his authority be questioned," Nathaniel reminded his friend. "And so I can only press him for answers so far before the conversation turns sour. That's all I've managed to get out of him and if he has some ulterior motive for sending me away then he's not going to tell me what it is."

The two stood together in glum silence before Fergus shook himself. "Oriana made me get up to change little Oren but since I was already awake I went down to the kitchens to get a snack and was on my way back to bed. Oriana doesn't really approve of my habit of eating in the middle of the night but since I was up _anyway-_"

"She still wouldn't approve," Nathaniel cut him off.

Fergus made a face. "But she's the one who made me get up!" he protested.

"She still wouldn't approve," Nathaniel repeated matter-of-factly.

Fergus thought it for a moment before shrugging. "You may be right. Just the same, she'll never know."

Something about that whole situation just struck Nathaniel as odd. "Why were you changing him in the middle of the night, anyway?" he asked curiously.

Fergus looked annoyed that Nathaniel apparently hadn't been listening. "Because Oriana didn't want to do it and said something about the fact that she had gotten him last time."

"No, I understand that part," Nathaniel corrected. "What I was curious about was why you and Oriana were the ones who would have to be changing Oren in the middle of the night."

Another strange look. "Because…he's our son? What, do you expect my parents to do it? Oh, Maker help us, _Anastasia_? She's barely even interested in him during the day!"

Nathaniel exhaled loudly in frustration. Why was this simple thought so difficult to get across? "This is a teynir. Your family is the second most powerful apart from the Theirins. You have countless servants. Wouldn't it be easier for one of them to take care of your son, at least at night?"

Fergus looked surprised at the suggestion. "I suppose it would be but…I don't know. It feels kind of impersonal, you know? Anastasia and I both had Nan take care of us when we were little and our parents were busy but when they weren't they were always there tending to our needs. Mother is still in the process of trying to talk her out of retiring from cooking duties and going back to being a nanny for little Oren but he's just so little now that it seems a bit soon to have someone else take care of him when they don't have to. Besides, I don't want someone else – even someone like Nan – to spend more time with my son than I do and Oriana feels the same way."

Nathaniel felt a small stab of jealousy at that remark but quickly suppressed it. Fergus was his friend and it wouldn't do to hold something against him that he had no more control of than Nathaniel himself did. What Fergus had described not wanting for his son was exactly what Nathaniel and his siblings had had to contend with growing up. Adria was a wonderful woman and in so many ways she was like a mother to them but they had barely even known their mother when she had died and their father, though he tried, wasn't exactly the most approachable man either. Part of him wanted desperately what Fergus took for granted but that was not to be and so there was no use dwelling on it.

"You're a good father," he said instead.

Fergus beamed at him.

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	9. Mistake

Prompt: Mistake

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel felt a little awkward about just leaving his companions standing around in the streets of Amaranthine while he went and caught up with his sister but not nearly enough to miss this opportunity. He was sure that if they got bored they could wander off and doing something else in town. They really should have arranged for a meeting place, though.

Delilah ushered him to a table. "Sit, sit," she urged.

Nathaniel did as he was bidden, still unable to really believe that his sister was standing – alive and well – before him. When he had last seen her, she was only a child, really, and now here she was married and living in Amaranthine. Nathaniel didn't know anything about this 'Albert' but he was sure that he wasn't good enough for his sister. Sure, she might _claim_ that she adored him but if she was already married to him then getting a divorce would be difficult and quite scandalous and who knew if she really meant it? Besides, if times were as hard as he suspected they were she likely didn't have much of a choice and probably felt some sort of gratitude to that man for keeping her from starving. Obviously, the Couslands and King Alistair hadn't given the slightest bit of consideration to Delilah when they were busy destroying his family to get their happily ever after. Nathaniel's eyes swept over his sister, trying to detect any trace of unhappiness but he didn't see any. Then again, she had just learned that he was alive so that didn't necessarily mean any-

"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, horrified. No wonder she felt that she was trapped here! Nathaniel was going to kill this Albert, he really was.

Delilah smiled gently. "Yes, yes I am. I'm due in the spring, you know." She laughed lightly. "Oh, don't give me that look, Nathaniel."

"What look?" Nathaniel asked innocently.

"The one where you're plotting to 'defend my honor' from my husband who I love very much because he got me pregnant," Delilah replied matter-of-factly. "I know you might not understand this but…I'm happy here. All the trappings of nobility never meant all that much to me and you know all Father saw when he looked at me was a potential advantageous marriage. He wasn't comfortable with letting me so much as _look_ at a sword and even though I'm two years older than Thomas, he was Father's back-up heir. You don't have to be the type who could be happy with the life I've made but please don't do me the disservice of assuming that I was forced into it."

"I…" Nathaniel started to say, feeling guilty for having done just that. "I'm sorry, Delilah. I know that, I do. I just can't really wrap my mind around you being happy here."

"That's because we're two different people, Nathaniel," Delilah pointed out. "So you'll just have to trust my word for it that I am happy here."

"Alright," Nathaniel said, sighing in defeat. "I will. But if I see any indication that you're not…"

"I know, I know, I can always go back to the Keep," Delilah supplied. "And should it be necessary, I won't hesitate. I doubt it will be, though. Albert is a good man and maybe once you meet him you'll feel the same. Come back here next time you're in Amaranthine and you can meet my husband."

"I will," Nathaniel promised solemnly. He hesitated. Was he really sure that he wanted to know? Probably not, but it was his duty to seek out the truth and if he had made a mistake then it was better to be made aware of it now then desperately cling to it forever. "Sister…what did you mean about 'Father's evil'?"

Delilah frowned and nervously pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Nathaniel, are you really sure you want to talk about this? He's dead and gone no matter what you or anyone else might think about him."

"You know the woman I came here with?" Nathaniel answered her question with one of his own. "That's Queen Anastasia Theirin née Cousland. I didn't become a Grey Warden by choice, you know, I was forced to after I was arrested for sneaking into the Keep and trying to take back some of our possessions. I probably didn't help my case when I informed her that I had originally shown up to kill her."

Delilah covered her mouth, horrified. "Nathaniel, you didn't!"

"Don't worry, I changed my mind when I actually got there," Nathaniel assured her. "I told Anastasia that I'd rather be killed that join the Wardens but, again, it's not like I got that choice. In all honesty, being a Warden isn't as bad as I thought it would be and I am grateful that she decided not to hang me after all. Just the same…my commander killed our father. She claims he killed her family first and I really don't know much about that. If there is truth to what you said about him being evil, I _do_ need to know in order to get past this."

Delilah drummed her fingers on the table while she considered. Finally, she nodded her head. "Very well then. This all started with the Couslands. Father took his men up to Highever, purportedly so that their forces could go to Ostagar and aid King Cailan against the darkspawn. Instead, the inhabitants of Castle Cousland were massacred and Father was claiming their teynir. He said something about them being traitors, yes, but if that were the case then why kill everyone? Fergus' son, he must have only been seven or eight! And why not try to bring it to the attention of the king instead of taking matters into his own hands? No, I was never happy with that."

Oren. Nathaniel couldn't believe he'd forgotten about Oren. He'd seen the child born as one of his last acts before leaving Ferelden all those years ago. "What else?"

"He sent troops in to help the Arl of Denerim manage an elven uprising in the Alienage and then claimed that the Arl had died when the King and Queen informed us that he had actually been imprisoned in Father's dungeon and they had arrived to find him having recently been violently killed in a tiny cell," Delilah continued. "I wasn't at the Landsmeet, you know, but I certainly heard of what came of it. Most of the things that they charged Loghain with were things that our father had done and that they had found by going through his dungeon."

"Just what could he have possibly kept in his dungeon that would have been so problematic?" Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder. "Well…aside from Arl Vaughan. Given the rumors about him and those elves, however, he might have done the Alienage a favor."

"He might have," agreed Delilah. "If he hadn't turned right around and led a purge through the Alienage to 'avenge' Vaughan and then started selling the survivors as slaves to the Tevinter Imperium. As for who he had in his dungeon…who didn't he have? A Grey Warden, another noble, a survivor from Ostagar, a templar…these people had committed no crimes, Nathaniel. They were just _inconvenient_."

"I don't understand," Nathaniel said, almost desperately. "Father would _never-_"

"He would," Delilah cut him off. "I've seen it. I've heard about it. Everyone's heard about it. I know better than to believe everything I hear, of course, but the rumors fit right in with the things I had personally witnessed."

"How could Father have changed so much?" Nathaniel demanded. His sister wouldn't lie, not about this. He knew that and yet this didn't make any sense! Despite what Delilah might say, he _didn't_ secretly think of their father as a monster. This couldn't be real.

"I don't know," Delilah admitted. "I don't think I'll ever know. His actions really speak for themselves, though."

Nathaniel nodded hollowly. It couldn't be true…except it apparently was. He'd been mistaken, then. It would appear that he owed Anastasia an apology. Maker help him.

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	10. Groundskeeper Samuel

Prompt: Groundskeeper Samuel

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Nathaniel returned from Amaranthine in a pensive mood. When he had first heard the news of his family's fall from grace and the rumors of his father's depravity way back before he'd even left Kirkwall, he had immediately assumed the whispers to be wrong and vicious slander to boot. Upon meeting the woman who had killed his father and being forced to join the Grey Wardens which was surprisingly not as bad as he had feared, he had begun to doubt. The new Arlessa wasn't a bad sort, really, but he still couldn't believe what everyone said about his father had been the truth all along. A compromise, perhaps? His father was being made a scapegoat for backing the losing side (and since the former regent was still alive, well, and the father of the Queen the blame was hardly going to go to _him_) and yet the Warden had no knowledge of this. That could work. He had found Delilah in Amaranthine, however, and what she had to say about their father…it didn't seem real. Slaving, kidnapping, torturing…it _couldn't_ be real.

He was taking a brisk walk around the Keep to try and clear his head when he saw him. Groundskeeper Samuel. The man who had informed him that his sister was still alive and told him how to find her. He had never left Amaranthine even after the Grey Wardens had taken over, had he? He would be able to tell him more about what had happened. It wasn't like Nathaniel was going to take the word of Samuel above the word of his sister, of course, but the idea of his father being a monster – though he had intellectually accepted it – just refused to sink in. The more people he asked and who confirmed those ugly rumors the better chance he had of finally believing it…or so he hoped. This cognitive dissonance, believing in his father's evil and good at the same time, was killing him.

Samuel was pulling at some weeds behind the Keep when Nathaniel approached him. Once he registered Nathaniel's presence, he straightened immediately. "Oh, you're back. Did you find Lady Delilah?"

Nathaniel nodded absently. "I did. She seemed…well. She also said some very disturbing things."

Samuel tilted his head. "Oh?" he prompted.

"You worked here after I left and up until my father's death, right?" Nathaniel asked, almost rhetorically.

Samuel nodded. "And I haven't stopped working even now that the Arling has changed hands. There's nobody that knows the grounds of this place better than me."

"Delilah said…" Nathaniel began. Stopped. Steeled himself. "Delilah said that our father was a monster. I wasn't here. I don't _know_. Would you agree with that?"

Samuel hesitated. "Your father spent most of his last year of life in Denerim dealing with the civil war and consolidating his power," he hedged. "Just the same…"

"Yes?" Nathaniel asked, struggling not to let his impatience show.

"Just the same I've worked for that man since the Orlesians were thrown out of the country and it was safe to come out of hiding," Samuel replied. "The pay was good and Amaranthine itself is _beautiful_, plus it's near enough to the Alienage in Highever so I can't say I ever regretted taking the job."

Nathaniel sensed there was a 'but' coming. "What was the problem then?"

"Your father was never a friend to the elves," Samuel said delicately. "Oh, I know we could have had it far worse, don't get me wrong. Under the Orlesians we _did_ have it far worse. Even in Ferelden, the tales told about Bann Vaughan are enough to chill the soul. Your father was never nearly that bad but it was still painfully obvious that elves weren't really people to him. Like so many others, he felt that because we were different than human we must be subhuman as well. I do not claim to know what your father got up to in Denerim but it would not surprise me in the slightest if he really did lead a purge through the Alienage and send phony Tevinter 'healers' to enslave them."

"I see," Nathaniel said, his heart plummeting. It seemed like he was the only one surprised to hear what his father had gotten up to after massacring the Couslands…well, aside from the Couslands, of course.

"I'm not telling you this to hurt you or to make you think less of your father," Samuel said earnestly. "Because for better or for worse he was your father and I know that you loved him."

"Then why _are_ you telling it to me?" Nathaniel demanded. "Well…aside from the fact that I asked and it may be the truth."

"You are a Grey Warden now," Samuel explained. "I watched you grow up, you know. It's been killing you to be a part of the evil order that murdered your father, hasn't it?"

Reluctantly, Nathaniel nodded in confirmation.

"I don't expect that knowing the truth about your father will make you happy," Samuel continued. "But your father is dead and you're not. The Grey Wardens aren't going anywhere either and from what I understand you can't just stop being one, even if you do decide to quit one day. I hope that by realizing the truth about your father you will be able to find peace one day."

Nathaniel couldn't imagine that ever happening. Still, it was a bit premature to say for certain and he might be pleasantly surprised one day when he realized that he was at peace with what had happened.

Samuel was still staring at him.

"Thank you," Nathaniel said with a tight smile. He didn't feel very thankful but Samuel had done as he asked and being in a bad mood was no reason not to be polite. He made his excuses and then quickly hurried away.

He could feel Samuel's eyes on him until he was all the way back in his room.

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	11. Hero

Prompt: Hero.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

If there was one thing that Nathaniel's nephew had in common with his namesake, it was the fact that he had a mild obsession with Grey Wardens. Unlike with their own parents, Delilah and her husband had no deep-seated issues with the ancient order that was ruling over their Arling and so Thomas didn't have to hide it like his uncle had.

Somehow, Thomas' normal childhood fascination with the famed Blight-enders had led to him declaring that Nathaniel was his hero and following him around whenever he came to the Keep for a visit or Nathaniel came into town to see them.

"So your mother told me that you hate to go shopping," Nathaniel remarked as the pair began to walk back to Delilah's house.

Thomas made a face. "Do I ever! It's all just a bunch of standing around and carrying things and mom and dad always take too long to pick things out."

Nathaniel nodded. That really wasn't unexpected for a boy his age. "That leads me to wonder why you just insisted on going on a three-hour shopping trip with me where you smiled the whole time and didn't complain once."

"Oh, well that's different," Thomas explained.

"Because…?" Nathaniel prompted. "I would think your parents' shopping expeditions take less time as they can go to the market whenever they want and I have to make a special trip from Vigil's Keep."

Thomas shrugged. "I don't know. It's just boring when they take me there but it's really cool when you do, even if it does take a lot longer."

Nathaniel blinked in confusion a few times at that. "Why?"

"Hm…I think it's because you're a Grey Warden," Thomas theorized. "And everyone knows that everything that Grey Wardens do is awesome."

"Do they, now?" Nathaniel asked, amused.

"Absolutely," Thomas said seriously with a firm nod. "Although I kind of think you guys would be cooler if you still had griffons."

"So does everybody," Nathaniel murmured. "So why are you such a fan of the Grey Wardens?"

Thomas' eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? Why wouldn't I be?"

"I really want to know," Nathaniel confirmed. "So if you have a reason, I would be happy to hear it."

"You saved everyone from the Blight!" Thomas burst out. "And then you saved all of Amaranthine from the evil talking darkspawn!"

"Both of those things happened before you were even born," Nathaniel pointed out. "And I wasn't even around during the Blight."

"So?" Thomas countered. "That doesn't mean that it's not still awesome or that the Grey Wardens didn't do it. Besides, they're almost scary-good at fighting."

" 'Scary-good'?" Nathaniel repeated, a little puzzled. How could they be so talented at fighting that it was scary? Well, if this was the enemy's perspective he could understand that but the main enemy of the Grey Wardens were the darkspawn and they hadn't seen any talking darkspawn for years.

" 'Scary-good' means 'insanely-good'," Thomas helpfully translated. Upon seeing that this cleared nothing up for his uncle, he continued, "Or 'really good.'"

"Then why don't you just say 'really good'?" Nathaniel inquired.

Thomas shrugged again. "Because everyone else says 'scary-good' or 'insanely-good.'"

"So that's all that it takes to be a hero, huh?" Nathaniel asked rhetorically, feeling somewhat cynical. "Being a talented fighter and killing a lot of darkspawn?"

"You make it sound like that's really easy," Thomas protested. He thought for a moment. "Of course, I suppose for you it might really be but for most people it's kind of not."

"I just think you're throwing about the term 'hero' a little lightly," Nathaniel told him.

"What's a hero for you, then?" Thomas challenged.

Nathaniel frowned, contemplating the question. "For me, I guess, a hero would be someone who saw what was wrong with the world and took steps to correct it, preferably for minimal reward."

"Sort of like, I don't know, someone who fight the darkspawn wherever they go even when everyone else forgets about them?" Thomas asked innocently. "Even when everyone else thinks they don't exist anymore? And who have to be scary-good fighters in order to do this?"

Nathaniel couldn't help the surprised laugh that burst out of him. "Yes, I suppose just like that. But even though the Grey Wardens might technically fit the qualifications, I still don't really feel like we're the big heroes that you and everyone else think that we are."

That stopped Thomas for a moment and he stuck his lip out as he tried to find a way around this new problem. "You know," he said casually once he had thought of something. "I think that maybe that's one of the most important qualifications of a hero: they think that they do just what anybody else would have done and don't realize just how heroic they really are."

"That's certainly one way to look at it," Nathaniel agreed. He was more inclined to think that their 'whatever it takes' philosophy and their cruel recruitment practices were what really separated them from the heroes but he was hardly going to tell his little nephew that, even had he been allowed to.

"But not the way you would, right?" Thomas guessed. "Typical hero. There is still one small problem, though."

"And what is that?" Nathaniel asked him.

"I want to be a Grey Warden when I grow up but since I already know that they're a bunch of heroes, would that at all affect my hero status?" Thomas wondered.

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